


Snow Day

by taichara



Category: King of Bones - Erin A. Bisson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work is only work if you let it be work; naturally, distractions <i>do</i> help --</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).



What was supposed to happen, was that the inner court of the Keep needed to be cleared of the night's snowfall and -- using the choking mid-shin drifts as an excuse to postpone much anything else of import until normal function was restored -- Vitry had decided to muster a few of the available bodies to help him get a head start. 

Seeing as he'd decreed the usual snow crews be added to the city's numbers until the main thoroughfares were cleared, and with any other activity looking unlikely at best until the snow was dealt with (he'd already received a ruefully apologetic note via messenger-bird from Chari; she was stuck in Brithe and wouldn't even make it back to Vannesheight for at least two days), it seemed only sensible to roust out and buckle down to some hands-on labour. Even if it mostly meant pushing the worst of the drifts to pile up against the walls, it would still be better than nothing.

... Which of course was why he'd just barely managed to dodge the snowball that exploded against the courtyard wall behind him. Of _course_ that was why. 

All very important, very serious work was underway, yes indeed --

A second snowball, hot on the heels of the first, took him off-guard and grazed the back of his head as he lunged away, splattering through his hair and clinging to the damp dark ringlets like sticky sugar. Gasping for breath -- as much from laughter as exertion -- he pointed an accusing gloved finger at Keshan, halfway down the courtyard and already scooping up another round of ammunition in stoutly-mittened hands.

"You, sir, play dirty --!"

"Ha!"

Beneath his voluminous, fur-lined hood Keshan's ears tilted forward, and he grinned. Patting the clump of snow into shape, he sauntered (or waded, given the drifts) a little closer, not a trace of guilt to be found on his face.

"That is and was perfectly reasonable! There is not a single thing wrong with being ready to take advantage of terrain, or of the target being already pressed and distracted --"

There it was again, the telltale flicker of motion under the hood; but, alas, it was too late. Lunging out of nowhere Miri leapt at Vitry in a flurry of skirts and scarves and tackled him into their collective snowpile with a shriek of triumph -- a shriek that mutated into startled false outrage as Vitry squirmed out of her grip, wallowed up out of the snow and flipped her over into the dent he'd just left. Billows of the icy stuff flew everywhere, kicked up by the impromptu wrestling match, and Keshan circled a respectably safe distance away, snowball still at the ready.

"Distracted just like that, I feel I could point --"

"Tell him our _secret weapon_ , will you --!"

Caked with snow, Miri surged to her feet and, laughing, launched herself at Keshan with Vitry (tossing aside the woolen shawl Miri'd left dangling in his hands) barely a breath behind her. Keshan braced for the impact and took Miri's lunge with a grunt of exertion, dropping his missile to catch her -- only to slide backwards on the drift-covered, snow-slick flagstones and topple over altogether as Vitry slammed into them both. All three went down in a tangle of limbs, braids and snowy wool ... and no one was willing to give up the tussle first.

-*-

By the time all three ran out of breath, they looked more like snow-frosted statues than living beings and not a one of them wanted to be the first to try to stagger up out of the snow. Not yet, anyway. Keshan stared up at the soft grey sky, gasping for air, then rolled his head (as much as he could; he was leaning against some part of Miri or other, one braid tangled or maybe half-frozen in a fold of her heavy skirts) in Vitry's general direction.

"Not ... very efficient, we aren't ..."

"Oh, I think we'll manage."

Vitry paused for a breath or three. No sense choking on his own words, after all. While he drew in breaths, Miri broke into the conversation ... such as it was.

"We'll manage, just you watch, we'd gotten a good quarter to maybe an optimistic almost-third reasonably clear --"

"For we three? True; now, whether we find the plow-shovels after all of this, that I can't measure a guess against ..."

Vitry's wordless snort brought a grin to Keshan's face. Then the recollection of the shovels brought something else to mind.

"I was meaning to ask this before this, really -- is there a charm for snow clearing, Vitry? If you have the strength, and know such a thing, then we'd have that much less physical work remaining."

"That's a good question, but alas! it's not that simple. Well, the actual casting would be simple enough, but ..."

With a grunt, Vitry heaved himself upright, shaking snow out of his hair like a hound and offering Miri a helping hand to do the same; Keshan untangled himself with a bit of effort and tucked the offending braid back into his tawny hood.

"... but then we'd be left with a sodden court. And when the water froze again, which it would --"

Aha. That made sense.

"-- It would make the flagstones too dangerous, maybe even fatally dangerous, because of the ice. That, I did not think of; we don't use stone outside. For the same reason, more or less, now that I think on it ..."

"It's good to hear that one of you may have thought _something_ , at the least --!"

The baritone roar that echoed across the courtyard was equal parts amused and censorious, and accompanied by a sudden brightening as Dashyan, fox-lined outer robe bright buff and rust against the snowdrifts, shouldered his tower door wider. The warmth of his well-stoked hearth fairly radiated across the drifts in waves; impatience sparked in the green-golden eyes.

"Now then, children, pick yourselves up bodily before I find myself forced to do it for my own self, and drag yourselves in before you expire. 

"Now!"


End file.
